By Private Invitation

by Stephanie Julian

  Jared didn’t even look at the paper as he took it.

  Leaning back into the chair, she stared at him. “I’m surprised you don’t require a clean bill of health from a doctor.”

  “We do. All members of the Salon have legal waivers from their doctors, which are updated every six months. I’m trusting you were honest about your medical history when you signed that form.”

  She nearly blushed, embarrassed to reveal how long it’d been since she’d had sex. Or the reason for knowing she was disease-free. “I’m clean. When my last…relationship ended, I had an exam and all the requisite tests.”

  “Sounds like the relationship didn’t end well.”

  Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “You could say that. Fortunately, I was more pissed off than hurt.” Which she couldn’t say about Gary. He’d had to see a doctor for his shoulder.

  Jared shifted in his chair and her gaze was drawn to the bulge in his slacks. He made no effort to hide his erection. Her blood heated like lava.

  She couldn’t relax, his blatant lust made it impossible. She wished he would move, pace, take her to wherever they were going. But he made no effort to get up. Spontaneous combustion became a distinct possibility.

  She took a deep breath as something occurred to her. “Will Tyler be there?”

  How weird would it be to do anything sexual with his brother? Even unknowingly, though she was pretty sure she’d recognize his voice.

  Jared shook his head. “He doesn’t attend the Salon games.”

  Something clicked in her sex-addled brain, some piece of information that focused her away from sex. “Salon as in Victorian salon?”

  He nodded. “That’s right.”

  Her smile made his gaze burn a little brighter.

  “What’s that smile for, Belle?”

  “I never told you about my specialty in antiques, did I?”

  If he was surprised by her change of subject, he didn’t show it. “I don’t think it came up.”

  “The shop’s main focus is early American and European furniture. That was my grandfather’s passion and where most of my income comes from. My focus is erotic artwork.”

  He blinked once, but his smile never faltered, and he raised his eyebrows just enough to let her know he wanted her to continue.

  “Most of my collection is eighteenth-century European, Japanese, and Chinese.” And some very special modern American works. “I’m well versed in European because of my degree in art history, but I also have a few other pieces, like Greek redware and Roman marble.”

  Now he moved, shifting in his chair, leaning forward. “How did you get into the field?”

  He looked so relaxed, so at ease, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his collar open. She had no idea where his tie was. Was it so wrong to be so turned on by the hint of T-shirt she could see under his shirt? To be panting after the naked skin of his forearms?

  The man was made to be touched. And she planned to.

  But first, she’d make him beg again. She’d never made anyone beg and it felt so damn good.

  She burned for him. Not just between her legs, but her breasts ached for his lips to suck at her nipples and her skin tingled with the remembered touch of his hands. She wanted him to burn for her, to crave the taste and feel of her.

  “My granddad accepted a set of Paul Avril engravings for Fanny Hill as payment for a nineteenth-century Lancaster County chest. I happened to open the box when they came. I was…fascinated.”

  Jared’s smile widened. “I know the ones you’re talking about. I have an entire set. How old were you?”

  Her smile turned into a full-out grin. “Seventeen. My granddad lined the paintings up against the wall, completely ignored the content, and discussed the techniques used by the artist. I’ve been fascinated with erotic art for years. How the turn of a head or the curve of a lip can convey so much passion in the hands of a master.”

  “And you’re a collector?

  She nodded. “As well as a dealer. I have several clients who love art as much as I do. They enable me to expand my own collection. And I work with a few museums around the world. It doesn’t pay all the bills but it’s my passion.”

  She’d chosen the word deliberately and was rewarded by heat flaring in Jared’s eyes.

  “I’ve always believed passion is the only thing that makes life worth living.” Jared stood and her gaze flicked, for one brief moment, to his crotch and the impressive bulge there. When she looked up his smile was gone, but lust showed in the tight line of his jaw. “Let me show you my passion before the others arrive.”

  She really didn’t want him to think she was a nympho, but she really hoped he meant they were going to have sex again. It’d been months since she’d broken up with Gary and frankly, she’d never had sex as good as she’d had with Jared.

  A little voice in the back of her head wanted to intrude, wanted her to question what she was doing. But she shut it down before it could become a nag. Tonight was all about pleasure.

  If there was one thing she’d learned from her parents, it’s that pleasure was sacred.

  And damn it, she deserved some.

  She took his outstretched hand and let him draw her to her feet.

  Tilting her head back to look into his eyes, she smiled and he bent to give her a quick kiss. Not long enough to satisfy. And no tongue.

  A tease. She wanted to tease and torment him.

  He nodded toward the back wall of the room. “Through here.”

  While this room was the size of the one she’d checked into for the night—and which she probably wasn’t going to be sleeping in—there was no bed. Two couches and six chairs were arranged around the room in seating areas, the art deco style repeated in the side tables and decorations. Not gaudy, as some deco could be, but elegant and tasteful.

  Annabelle saw no door in the wall but Jared touched a piece of the ornate molding and, like magic, the seam she’d thought was from the wallpaper cracked open to reveal another space beyond.

  Jared stepped in ahead of her, flicking switches on the wall.

  A warm glow suffused the room and Annabelle’s breath caught at the scene spread out before her.

  Like a scene out of Pride and Prejudice or, more appropriately, Fanny Hill, the large room looked like someone had transplanted a drawing room straight from Victorian England.

  From the ornately decorated ceiling to the plush carpets, the octagonal room dripped with elegance.

  Lush fabrics covered the chaise lounges, chairs, and ottomans. Silk wallpaper gleamed in the light of the crystal chandelier in the center of the room. Directly below the chandelier sat an octagonal game table with eight chairs.

  A baby grand piano held court in one corner, lit by a leaded glass piano light, and a large glass-front walnut display cabinet across the room held a collection of items she couldn’t see from where she was standing.

  Several other seating areas lay scattered around the room, most shadowed in darkness, including one in front of the majestic marble fireplace burning with a gas fire.

  “All the furniture is reproduction,” Jared said. “We can get…a little enthusiastic and I didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to hold back for fear of breaking an expensive antique.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Jared headed for the writing desk on the opposite wall from the piano. He withdrew two pieces of black cloth from one of the drawers and turned to face her.

  Walking over to him, she let her hips sway just a tiny bit more, the action helped along by the fact that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She wasn’t sure what had happened to the ones he’d ripped off her. She suspected they were in his pocket.

  And that really shouldn’t make her pussy tingle.

  Reaching out, she took the mask from his hand and examined it. It reminded her of a blindfold but with holes cut out for the eyes. Sitting on the edge of the desk, he circled one finger in the air, signaling for her to turn. She did and he slipped the ma
sk over her eyes, waited until she adjusted it, then tied the strings behind her head.

  The material felt like silk, sinful and sexy.

  When he was done, she turned to fasten his.

  What would it feel like to have my hands bound behind my back with these?

  She’d never told Gary about that little fantasy, had worried he’d think she was perverted. Or worse, that he’d tell one of his idiot friends and it’d be spread all over town the next day.

  She knew what it was like to be the object of vicious gossip and she didn’t want to live through that hell ever again.

  Here she could indulge with no fear of repercussions.

  She drew in a deep breath, and Jared turned, his eyes narrowing.

  Grabbing her around the waist, he lifted and turned her until she sat on the edge of the desk. Her skirt fluttered up and her bare ass settled onto the desk. The cool surface made her shiver, but her entire body shuddered when Jared put his hands on her thighs. Under her skirt.

  “Are you cold, Belle?”

  Not at all. “If I say I am, will you offer to warm me?”

  The corners of his mouth quirked but the rapid pulse at the side of his neck belied his seemingly outward cool. She wanted to lean forward and bite him right there. Mark him in some way.

  His hands slid forward by the tiniest increments, each slight motion making her legs fall apart just a little more. “You don’t feel cold. In fact, your skin is so warm, I want to soak in your heat.”

  The throb between her legs made her ache to move his hands higher, faster. Leaning back on her hands, she spread her legs until she could accommodate his body between them. When his fingertips nearly touched the lips of her sex, he pressed her open even more, rubbing his hard cock against her mound.

  She tilted her hips up so he brushed against her sensitive clit.

  Swallowing a moan, she fought to keep her eyes open, to watch him. She wanted him to push her back and flip her skirt to her waist. “Maybe you need to take my temperature.”

  He grinned this time. Not a sophisticated smile, but an honest-to-God grin that made his eyes narrow to slits. “And how would you like me to do that?”

  “Oh, I’m sure you could think of something.”

  His fingers moved closer, every centimeter they covered fueling her lust. “Should I use my fingers?”

  “Yes, please. Touch me, Jared.”

  “I am touching you.”

  Damn the man, he wanted her to spell it out. As if he knew how excited she could get just from talking. How he knew that, she had no clue. Gary had never picked up on it in all the months they’d been seeing each other. “I want you to put your fingers in my pussy and fuck me with them.”

  Jared’s smile turned hard and a dark flush tinged his cheeks. “Oh, I will, sweetheart. Lay back, Belle. And don’t move.”

  Jared watched as Belle did exactly what he wanted without question or hesitation.

  And his cock throbbed with a fierce need to get inside her now.

  Damn, he wanted to fuck her. No preliminaries, no foreplay.

  Just ram into her and thrust until he exploded.

  Jared prided himself on his restraint, on being a considerate lover, one who gave his partner several orgasms before he came. Yeah, he was a little—okay, he was a huge control freak. Most women enjoyed it. They let him have his way and he fucked them until he got bored and moved on. Or they did. He didn’t hold grudges on that account and hoped they didn’t either.

  He’d bet his life this woman wouldn’t just let him fuck her and take it. She’d want to return the favor and make him lose his control.

  That made her dangerous.

  And Jared dealt with danger in one way. He subdued it.

  For the briefest second, he let his fingertips brush against the lips of her sex, barely enough to feel the moisture coating them. Belle arched toward him and he withdrew until his hands rested on her knees.

  “Touch your breasts. Pull your dress down so I can see you play with your nipples.”

  She flushed a bright, pretty red and, for a second, he thought she’d refuse. His breath caught and held, waiting, until finally she did as he asked.

  Legs spread, her back flat against the desktop, she kept her gaze locked to his as she lifted her hands to her neckline. Slow and steady, she pulled the gauzy material down until her bare nipples showed. The tight corset around her middle helped push her breasts into mounds.

  Barely able to breathe, he watched as her long, slim fingers played over the taut nipples. She had beautiful breasts, full and round. Her nipples pebbled as she touched them and he wanted to lick them and bite them. Make her scream while he did it.

  Right now, though, he was content to watch her as she caressed, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence. Her eyes drifted closed and her teeth lodged into her bottom lip.

  His hands tightened on her legs and he started a slow caress of her thighs, up and down, falling into the rhythm she used to fondle herself.

  His dick throbbed and his jaw ached from being clenched. The breathy moans escaping her lips inflamed his lust even more.

  Tearing his gaze from her breasts, he looked down her body, at the bare lips of her pussy, shiny with moisture. Moving his hands, he stroked her, flicking her clit as he barely penetrated her with his fingers.

  She moaned, louder this time, and her hips thrust up, trying to get his fingers to sink deeper.

  Not yet. He wanted her wild. He wanted her complete surrender to sensuality before he made her come.

  He sensed she was holding back. And he wanted her complete surrender.

  “Belle, open your eyes. Watch me.”

  Slowly, her lashes flickered and those pale green eyes peered at him, lazy and full of heat. She struggled to breathe, her chest rising and falling in a heavy pattern that made her breasts quiver. He wanted to suck those tight nipples into his mouth and he would. But first, he needed this.

  Leaning down, he put his mouth on her stomach just below her belly button. The soft skin contracted as she drew in a sharp breath, but she froze, as if worried he would move if she did.

  He kissed her, running his tongue up to her belly button then down to the soft triangle of hair on her mound. A light brown, almost the same shade as her hair, she kept it trimmed.

  He rubbed his nose against it, drawing in her scent, then flicked out with his tongue, catching the tip of her clit. With a cry, she writhed, arching up toward his mouth. Catching her hips in his hands, he pinned her to the desk and covered her clit with his mouth, sucking on the little nub until he could nip at it with his teeth.

  His own lust caught him off guard as he ate at her. Her earthy taste and scent hit him like a punch in the gut. He nipped her clit harder, then used the flat of his tongue to lick it. His heart pounded in his chest as her fingers slid into his hair. The slight pain as she pulled at the short strands caused his cock to throb with his heartbeat.

  Rational thought deserted him and sex consumed him.

  He alternated biting her clit with soothing licks of his tongue, keeping her body on the edge of orgasm. Tension filled the air around them. Hers, his.

  And someone else’s.

  He didn’t stop to see who was standing behind him but he knew someone was there. And Belle knew it too because her breath caught and she froze for several seconds.

  Would she ask him to stop now that the reality of what she’d agreed to hit her? Christ, he hoped not. He wouldn’t let it.

  He didn’t let up and continued to work her body with his mouth. And when he used his tongue to fuck her, she cried out, her hands reaching above her head to hold on. Her body arched off the desk and her taste flooded his mouth.

  His cock so hard it hurt, he rose and unbuttoned his slacks, releasing his cock from the confines of his underwear.

  Behind him, someone moved.

  Jared recognized Dane Connelly by his hair, long enough to brush his shoulders and dark as night. Dane had shed his coat but wore h
is mask.

  Best friends since high school, Dane didn’t wait for an invitation to join. He just cupped Belle’s breast in one hand and bent to take the nipple in his mouth.

  Belle’s short gasp made Jared pause to watch her closely. If she freaked, he’d get her the hell out here.

  She didn’t. After several long seconds, she closed her eyes and let another man suckle her breast.

  Damn, she was beautiful, with her lips parted and a blush tingeing her cheeks. He’d never wanted a woman more.

  Pulling a condom from his pocket, Jared covered his cock, watching as Dane worked her breasts with his mouth and his hands.

  With her eyes closed and her hair spilling all over the desk, she looked like one of the paintings on the walls of the Salon. Abandoned. Wild. Lost in pleasure.

  He wanted to feel her come all over his cock again. Once hadn’t been enough.

  Sliding his hands up her legs, he waited until she opened her eyes. Glazed with passion, she stared at him, her mouth slightly parted, lips red from biting them. He saw no fear, no doubt, no unwillingness.

  He stepped closer to the desk and rubbed the tip of his sheathed cock against the heat of her pussy. She tilted her hips, offering herself up while at the same time pushing her breast further into Dane’s mouth.

  His cock pierced her lower lips until the head disappeared into her flesh. Molten heat surrounded him and he wanted to bury himself in her. At the same time, he wanted to draw this out, wanted her to lose all control and know he was the one who made her do it.

  Pulling out, he watched her watch him, watched her eyes dilate just a little more as he pushed back in, a little further this time. Her eyes flickered shut briefly, catching on Dane for several seconds before lifting to reconnect with Jared’s gaze.

  She reached for him, catching the tail of his shirt and tugging. “Take me.”

  “I’m planning to, honey. Just tell me how you want it.”

  Her gaze flipped to Dane again as her lips curved into an enticing smile. “Make me beg.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dane glance up at him. His friend had no idea who he was fucking but it wouldn’t matter. Dane was a pure sensualist. As long as it felt good, Dane didn’t care where the pleasure came from. And Dane knew Jared well enough to know how much he loved a challenge.